Under The Same Moon
by surry
Summary: Nick has been cursed, doomed to survive only by feeding off the blood of predators. How can he break the spell without Judy finding out? (Gory stuff. Vampires. Some strong language.)


A gunshot rang out.

"Stop right there!" Judy cried. "Get away from her!"

The creature uneasily removed itself from its prey, snarling, red eyes now focused on her like hot lasers, catching sight of the shaking weapon in her paws. The wolf lay on the ground, quite still in the grass, unmoving.

Judy fired off several more rounds in quick succession, the flashing of the muzzle lit up her horrified face, and the sound carried through the emptiness of the park and shook the stillness of the night.

The creature yelped, struck by her bullets, crying out something very animalistic as it toppled over onto its side.

Judy made the difficult choice — get closer.

But, like nothing happened, the thing quickly got back to its feet, hacking and coughing its lungs out, still stalking low. It hid in the shadows.

Judy felt her heart thumping as she started to run, nearly tripping over her feet. Her tiny nose twitched, sniffing the air, trying to gauge its species. But it bolted for the trees, staying close to the ground. It dug its claws into the earth with all four of its feet and galloped off beyond her line of sight.

"No!" she shouted.

She hesitated at first, trying to track its movements through the woods, then fired again, twice. The sounds echoed for miles.

Nothing.

"No," she breathed, terror creeping down her spine. "How? How?!"

She cautiously approached the wolf now that the clear and present danger was gone, taking her phone out of her pocket, and held the light up to her muzzle. Her eyes remained peacefully shut, but upon closer inspection, Judy found two bloody holes beneath the thick fur of her neck — bite marks.

And suddenly her eyes widened. She was still breathing.

"— she's alive — !" Judy gasped. She had to call 911; she flipped the phone over in her paws and hit it up the digits instantly. "Sweetie, just stay with me, just keep breathing. I'm calling for help. Okay?"

It was quiet now. The wolf's breaths were shallow, quivering; she had lost a good deal of blood.

* * *

The door to his apartment burst open with a loud crack, and his dark paw fumbled around searching for the lights. He staggered through the messy room like a zombie, desperately gasping for air like a fish out of water; his blood had seeped into the alveoli of his lungs.

The red fox stumbled haphazardly into the bathroom, nearly losing his footing, his fur was saturated with blackened blood from his agape mouth all the way down to his black feet, and his shirt had been torn clean off. He tried to lick up whatever he could from his unclothed body, savoring each precious drop.

But the pain. It was almost too much.

His chest looked like furry, bloody swiss cheese; three sloppy holes went clean through his torso where three separate bullets had skewered his hide, and his wounds were taking their sweet time healing.

" — Gah!" he blurted out in anger, ungracefully colliding with the wall.

He hit the sink, lurching over it with all of his weight, and barely turned on the faucet, still gasping for air. He started splashing water over himself, washing the areas around his neck and face in broad strokes. The blood was not coming out easily. Each one of his labored breaths was deliberate and necessary.

He had taken too great a risk. Someone had seen him. And now, he was paying the price for his carelessness.

" — There weren't — any police, though," he managed to say, spitting out a mouthful of blood into the sink. It was staining his teeth. "Who would be carrying — a gun on them?"

He looked in the mirror.

It was not a pretty sight. The blood; it was starting to coagulate, stuck in everything, mostly his own. His fangs still had not retracted to their former length; they were practically hanging from his upper jaw, excellent tools for puncturing flesh, even through many layers of fur. His eyes looked different, too, a fiery crimson color in the pale light of the bathroom.

His feeding had been all for nothing. All of that blood — drained from her for no reason.

That poor wolf. She was delicious, too. His belly ached for more.

". . . so . . . hungry."

After about a minute of washing himself, he shut off the sink, starting to get lightheaded, sucking in all the air he could. His legs gave out from underneath him, and he noisily collapsed onto the tiled floor in a messy heap of blood, fur, and water.

He could not catch a full breath. His eyes began to dart about the room. His vision was spinning like a tornado.

And he moaned helplessly, only uttering a single word like a broken record player.

". . . Carrots . . ."

" . . . Carrots . . ."


End file.
